The 44th death.
[Text by Binduu Chopra; photo by Aryan Adityo]
Binduu was a dot. She was also a drop of water; also a full circle. Actually, she just wished to be a drop of love.
Eldest of the three children of Saroj and Rajinder, Ms Chopra loved candles, plants, shells, chunky silver rings, wind chimes, and nail paints. An author of three books and a few anthologies, she kept herself busy with her writings, her “heart beats”.
Ms Chopra dreamed of a life in a slow paced town where she would sit among the thick trees and gaze at the stars at night — but she was too scared of the dark, too fearful of the sounds of leaves at night. She yearned to hold the hand of a blind man one day and help him cross the road – but she never chanced upon a blind person while crossing the roads.
In the intensive care unit, Ms Chopra asked her doctors if the IV fluid in her drip could be replaced with the spicy tamarind water that is made by her favroite gol gappa walla.
Passing away at the beautiful age of 60, she leaves behind a husband, and a son and his small family. Her friends remember her home as being neat, organized, and cozy.
Our Self-Written Obituaries invites people to write their obituary in 200 words. The idea is to share with the world how you will like to be remembered after you are gone. (May you live a long life, of course!) Please mail me your self-obit at firstname.lastname@example.org.